Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

The remainder of the land-based fighting men, approximately a hundred plus one score, would be relocated to the northwest coast of the island, to Lochranza, the castle formerly owned by the disgraced chieftain of Menteith. The castle there sat high above a secure and easily defensible harbor that would serve as the home base of the galley fleet, and its garrison would be the former garrison of La Rochelle. More than half of the heavy horseflesh would be taken up there, too, and kept in the steep-sided, amply grassed mountain valleys surrounding the castle, as secure as they could possibly be from prying eyes.

There had been other details, and not all of them had been well received by the brethren. There had been muttering and disgruntlement among the ranks in the days that followed, but apart from keep an ear cocked for real trouble, in which he was unobtrusively assisted by Tam and Mungo, Will had ignored the grumblings, content to let time and habit erode the resistance to his changes. Clearly, though, he had missed at least one pocket of willful resistance, and that was what he intended to stamp out.

Finding writing materials at his work table, he quickly wrote out his instructions to Kenneth regarding victualing and accommodations for the arriving garrison from Lochranza. They would be arriving after a twenty-mile march and would be hungry and weary, perhaps more so than usual, he warned his brother, because Will intended to push them harder on this occasion than he normally would, testing their endurance for the first time since their landing, and using the opportunity to remind them of the discipline they might have been tempted to neglect.

The second missive he penned was to Bishop Formadieu, ordering immediate preparations for a chapter gathering to be held the day after Epiphany. The gathering of the knights would take place in darkness, as always, and under guard, shut off from outside eyes and ears. It would begin before Vespers and would last until all the business of the chapter was concluded. Although it was uncommon for chapter meetings to extend beyond the break of day, it was not unknown, and certainly on this occasion Will was concerned over the amount that had to be accomplished in this one session, even without the additional drama of a trial for disobedience, conspiracy, mutiny, and assault upon a superior. He took greater pains with his instructions to the Bishop than he had with those to his brother, despite knowing that the cleric needed no instruction in the details of what was required in chapter, because he wished to be as precise as he could be, and he had no desire to have the clerical contingent of the chapter overreach itself in seeking to gain too much influence over the flow of things. Will had had enough of that nonsense, although he knew it would never stop as long as there remained a priest who aspired to wear a miter someday. But the ambition of bishops, prelates, and clerics in general he could handle with ease. Because he had no fear of any of their threats, they were powerless to browbeat or manipulate him. The law of the Order stated that, in chapter, all men’s voices were equal; the newest knight among them could raise his voice in argument with the most august Archbishop, and that was the equality that Will wanted to safeguard most.

From that viewpoint, he wanted the trial of Martelet and his associates out of the way first. Then, once they had been removed, he wanted to read the parchments from the Grand Master, in the hope that the contents would provide instruction for their group at this most difficult time. After that, once all the judgments were ratified and the instructions from the Master had been admitted to the records of the chapter, there would come a plenary assembly of all the members of the Order, irrespective of rank, at which the instructions of the Master and the wishes of the chapter would be made known.

By the time he had finished that second letter, signing and sealing both documents, Tam was already there, waiting to take possession of the dispatches. He left immediately, buckling them carefully into the scrip that hung from his belt as he went. Will sat for a moment, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, then rose to his feet and went to talk to Bishop Bruno, the senior cleric in Lochranza, and then to review the final details of the preparations being made by de Montrichard’s officers for the gathering of troops and livestock for the following day’s journey.

TWO

Ever since joining the Order at the age of eighteen, one of Will’s greatest pleasures had been listening to the plainsong chants of the assembled brotherhood in chapter. The heavy resonance of massed adult male voices singing within the confines of a vaulted church filled with the aroma of precious incense and illuminated only by candles and tapers in the dark hours before the dawn provided him with an experience that was as close to mystical as anything he had ever known. The amalgam of song, echoes, incense, and flickering light encouraged him to believe, although infrequently, that God was up there somewhere, looking down on such activities with benign approval.

At Brodick Hall, however, there was no vaulted ceiling over their heads. The chapter was convened in the large southern antechamber, and armed men guarded the doors against intrusion. The music was as deep and resonant as ever, but the high-ceilinged room dwarfed the proceedings and muted the effect. Now, as the last notes of the antiphon died away into silence, the assembled knights began to shuffle their feet and clear their throats, but before anyone could speak, Sir Reynald de Pairaud rose to his feet and stood in plain view, one hand upraised in the traditional plea to be given leave to speak in chapter. The old man, whom Will had fully expected to oppose him on the changes he wished to make, had in fact been surprisingly supportive and, according to his brother, had been performing admirably as Kenneth’s adjutant in the month since Will’s departure for the north.

Will, as the sole representative of the Governing Council, was the senior member in chapter, superseding the preceptor, de Montrichard, who would normally occupy the Chair in the East. And so Will sat alone on the dais on the east side of the darkened chamber, with the preceptor on the Northern dais to his right and Vice-Admiral de Narremat, representing the naval presence in the absence of Sir Edward de Berenger, on the South, to his left. Bishop Formadieu, the green-robed senior prelate of the Order, sat facing Will at the far end of the floor, on the Western dais, and behind him sat the clerical members of the secretariat who would record every word of the proceedings. The brotherhood of the chapter at large sat ranged on chairs on the northern and southern sides of the squared floor.

It fell to Will, as Master-in-Chapter, to recognize the speakers and to decide whether they should be allowed to speak when they wished. He glanced around the chapter chamber, taking note of where the accused mutineer, Martelet, stood to his left with his co-accused, in chains and under guard. Will could not see the man’s face, but the length of his beard, defiantly pulled into a forked split with bare fingers, underlined his obduracy. Will turned his gaze back upon de Pairaud.

“Brother Reynald, Brother Preceptor has informed me that you wish to address the brethren.”

“I do, Brother William.” De Pairaud turned deliberately to look at Martelet, then turned to face Will again. “It concerns the matter of the letter from our beloved Master de Molay that is to be read here today, Brother. I raised the point with Brother Preceptor when it first occurred to me, and he was most insistent that I bring it your attention here in chapter, deferring to your senior rank.” He cleared his throat. “The sequence of events for our deliberations in chapter has traditionally been to deal with disciplinary matters before moving on to the business of the community at large.” He hesitated, glancing down at his hands, and then looked back at Will again. “It has occurred to me—and I emphasize that what I am about to suggest is no more than that, a suggestion—that it might be of value, in this present instance, to read the letter from the Master now, in the presence of the accused miscreants.” The stillness in the large room was absolute, with every pair of eyes fixed upon the aging knight, who now scratched his beard delicately before continuing.